Merry Christmas, Beautiful
by 2OwlsATweeting
Summary: He would tell her that he was allergic to the tree, that the Christmas carols were annoying, or that the decorations were a waste of space and buying gifts were simply a waste of time and money. And while some of this might be slightly true, he had never told her the real reason he resented Christmas. MULTI-SHOT HOLIDAY DRAMIONE.
1. The Gift: Part One

**Disclaimer: Hi guys! As of late, I have been really in the Christmas mood, so I decided to write this two-part Holiday Dramione one-shot. Make sense? :) Just so we are clear; I own none of these amazing characters. They all belong to the equally brilliant J. K. Rowling.**

**_The Gift~ Part One _**

"No."

Hermione sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. Her husband could be so difficult sometimes.

"Draco, we've been through this!"

"And we'll go through it again," he replied, not looking up from the Daily Prophet. She growled in frustration, slamming both her palms onto the dinning table.

"You cannot wait until two days before Christmas to go Christmas shopping!"

"Well darling," Draco drawled, calmly setting his paper down and meeting her icy glare, "The way I see it, I have until an hour before we arrive at my parent's house to buy them a gift. Problem solved."

"Problem unsolved. All the shops will be closed."

"That implies you know where I will be buying their fabulous gift, whatever it may be." Draco replied smugly, sipping his coffee.

"Every shop is closed on Christmas! Christmas is a time to relax, spend time with loved ones-"

"I don't see why you can't just go get them a present..."

"They're not my parents!"

"They're your in-laws!"

"I ask you to do one thing for me, one thing, Draco!"

"Are you kidding?" Draco asked, incredulously. "One thing? Who put up all the bloody decorations?"

"Um, that would be me," Hermione shot back.

"Who put the lights up out front, hm? That would be _moui_."

"Why can't you just do this for me?" Hermione cried.

"Because I'm not in the Christmas spirit."

"You're _never_ in the Christmas spirit."

"I don't enjoy Christmas."

"Everyone likes Christmas..." Hermione said softly, looking at her husband.

"Well I don't." Draco replied shortly, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. "I'm off to work."

"Will you be home before your parent's party tonight?"

"Probably not."

"Will you even be coming to the Christmas party tonight?" Hermione's voice broke.

"Don't bet on it." He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and disappeared in a flash of emerald flames. He didn't look back.

Draco groaned, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. His argument with his wife kept playing in his head. It wasn't the holiday itself that Draco strongly disliked. In fact, as a child, Draco had loved the idea of Christmas. What little boy wouldn't love the idea of receiving a new broomstick? Or seeing the look of joy that had flashed across his mother's face when she had tried on the ruby necklace he had bought for her with his own allowance? However, Draco's perspective on Christmas began to change when he entered into his Sixth Year at Hogwarts. His mother had long stopped decorating the Manor. It remained dark and cold. Santa Claus no longer left presents wrapped with ribbon under the tree.

...

_As Christmas drew closer and closer, Draco began to dread the holiday more and more. Christmas morn dawned clear and cold, with snow glittering on the ground. Despite the perfect weather, and the seemingly perfect holiday, Draco began to shake as he put on his best dress robes. Once he had finished dressing, Draco left his room and headed down to the drawing room. It may very well have been the walk a convicted prisoner would once have walked on his way to the exocutiner's noose. And perhaps that's exactly what it was..._

_Draco would never forget the scene that met his eyes as he opened the heavy, mahogany doors as long as he lived. The room was full of silent people, sitting at a long ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly against the walls and the only source of light in tht room came from the roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror._

_"Draco," said a soft voice that seemed to echo around the silent room. "Welcome."_

_The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for Draco to make out more then his silhouette. As Draco drew closer, the figure's face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes with vertical pupils. Draco advanced slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. He met no one's eyes, keeping his own eyes trained on his pale, intwined fingers. He took a shaky breath, before dropping to one knee next to shadowed figure. "My Lord," he whispered hoarsely._

_"Is their anyone gathered here who doubts Draco Malfoy's loyalties?" The man paused, gazing around the room. "Come, come ladies and gentleman surely we are not all at a consensus here..." No one spoke, no one moved._

_"Very well... Who then, will vouch for this boy?" Severus Snape rose from the chair next to Narcissa's._

_"I will vouch for Draco Malfoy." Voldermort's lip curled._

_"Arise, Draco." Draco stood, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. "Do you, Draco Scorpius Malfoy, swear loyalty to your Lord and Master?" Draco looked into his red, glowing eyes._

_"I do." A fiery serpent shot out of the Dark Lord's wand and coiled itself around Draco's left wrist._

_"Do you swear to follow my every order, no matter how absurd it may sound to your own naive ears, without question?"_

_"I swear."_

_"Do you swear to kill anyone that stands in the way of our ambitions, or anyone who may oppose my reign?"_

_"I swear."_

_"Do you swear to take pleasure in torturing and killing filthy Muggles and Mubloods?" The Dark Lord hissed. Her face flashed through his mind. Draco quickly pushed the thought of her away._

_"I swear."_

_"And, should the tides turn, do you swear to give your life to our noble cause?"_

_"I swear." Draco clenched his eyes shut, knowing what was about to happen and wishing he could do something to stop it._

_Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Draco's porcelain wrist and whispered a single word... "Morsmordre." Draco bit his tongue to stop from screaming in pain. His whole arm felt like it was on fire. His vision began to blur. It was pain beyond pain, a pain he had never experienced before, not even when his father had Crucio'd him. The burning sensation began to recede, but still, a dull, throbbing pain lingered. When Draco opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't. His once unblemished, pale skin was now marred by the Dark Mark. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. He was a monster..._

_..._

Draco sighed again. He shouldn't have snapped at her... How could she have known why he hated-strongly disliked- the holiday if he never told her his reasoning behind it. He would tell her that he was allergic to the tree, that the Christmas carols were annoying, or the decorations were a waste of space and buying gifts was simply a waste of time and money. And while some of this might be slightly true, he had never told her the darker reason he hated the season.

Knowing he was too distracted to get anything done at work, Draco decided to pay his mother a visit. Knowing he was walking into the open-firing range, what with the gala to be held at Malfoy Manor later that evening, talking to his mother always seemed to help. He would never admit it, but she gave some of the best advice in the world.

Narcissa Malfoy hardly batted an eye when her son emerged from the roaring green flames in the parlor. She knew he would stop by... Sooner or later. "So Hermione called me this morning..." Narcissa began, not looking up from the Christmas card she had been looking at.

"Mm," Draco replied, flicking imaginary specs of dust off his impeccable suit.

"Yes," Narcissa continued, "She seemed very distraught... She said the two of you had gotten into a little argument this morning and that you weren't coming tonight." Draco was silent.

"I hope you have changed your mind..."

"You know how I feel about Christmas, Narcissa," Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

"Draco, you ought to tell her..."

"I know mother," his voice had a slight edge to it.

"She already knows about your past. I don't know what you are worried about. She knows that you could do nothing to stop it, she knows that you regret it, she loves you and knows that you beat yourself up everyday because you blame yourself..."

"But don't you see, Mother?!" He cried. "If I tell her the reason I hate Christmas, she will never see Christmas the same way! Because she is such an empathetic woman, she will feel like she has to share my misery with me! I can't burden her with that! It's not hers to bear... Just mentioning Christmas in July brings a smile to her face... I will not destroy that smile or joy." Narcissa finally looked up, meeting her son's dark, swirling eyes.

"I think you already have." She said, softly, Draco shut his eyes, trying to hold back his tears.

"I don't want to lose her," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Narcissa reached over, grabbing ahold of her son's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze. Draco's eyes shot open when he felt his mother place something cold and metal in the palm of his hand. In his hands laid a ruby necklace.

"It's your necklace," his voice sounded strangled.

"You bought it for me with-"

"With my very own allowance," Draco finished with a small smile.

"I think you should give it to Hermione... It would look much better on a younger neck."

"Are sure?" Draco asked.

"Yes, dear," Narcissa laughed. "Red was never my color anyway."

"Thank you, Mum." Draco leaned down, giving Narcissa a peck on the cheek.

"You are most welcome, Draco... And I hope to be seeing you and your wife later tonight..." Draco paused at the fireplace.

"We'll see." And he was gone.

_To Be Continued..._

**Author's Note: So what did you guys think? Please drop me a review, I always LOVE hearing from you guys :) but no flames, constructive criticism only! So the plan for this Christmas fanfic is to become a collection of cute, fluffy one-shots... I have a lot of different chapter ideas, but not enough time to write all of them this holiday season... However, I will post a new chapter as soon as I can and hopefully that will be before Christmas Day :) If you liked this Dramione fanfic, I recommend that you read my other Dramione Holiday One-shot , The Christmas Shoes. Just a warming: it's kind of sad though... Once agan please R&amp;R and have a merry Christmas!**

**~Katherine**


	2. The Gift: Part Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters... Draco and Hermione belong to J. K. Rowling, who had quite a few opportunities to make Dramione a reality... But she d****idn't. So I'm doing it instead :) A part of Draco and Hermione's conversation about (Spoiler!) was inspired by a Tumblr post. Hope you guys had a Merry Christmas!**

**_The Gift~ Part Two_**

Hermione sighed wearily. She had no idea what to wear for her mother-in-law's Christmas party later that night. At least she wouldn't have to worry about coordinating her outfit withher husband's... Seeing as he wouldn't be coming... A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall. She whipped them away angrily. She didn't understand... How could he hate Christmas so much? And how was she supposed to figure out why he hated the holiday if he never talked with her about it?! She threw her black heels across the room in frustration. She figured a steamy shower would help her calm down.

When Draco cautiously opened the master bedroom door he was greeted by the sound of Christmas carols and running water. It was like music to ears; he didn't have to face his wife... yet. He gently set down the exquisitely wrapped gift onto the cremé and gold coverlet and made his way to the walk-in closet. Dresses and shoes had been pulled carelessly out and strewn hastily across the floor. Draco bent down, picking up the dresses, and placed them carefully onto their appropriate hanger. After he had cleaned up his wife's various articles of clothing, Draco proceeded to rummage through his side of their closet, searching for a white, collared dress shirt and black trousers. He suddenly realized how quiet the room had become... The shower and music had shut off. He grabbed his black shoes and bolted for the door, closing it behind him.

The first thing that caught Hermione's eye when she opened the bathroom door was the gift that had been beautifully wrapped and placed on the king bed along with a bouquet of red roses. She knew that it hadn't been there twenty minutes ago before she had left the bedroom to take a shower. There was a gold tag attached to the cylinder box. _"For You"_ it read. Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. She tore off the wrapping paper and lifted up the lid. Inside, nestled between rose-colored tissue paper, lay a set of lingerie. Lacey, Slytherin green lingerie. She recoiled in disgust, shoving the lingerie back inside and slamming the lid back onto the box. Her husband was such a perverted pig!

She sat on the bed, glaring at the box. There was no way in hell she would be caught dead in such a ghastly color. And there was no way in hell her husband would be seeing her in it tonight! To think that he thought buying her a dozen red roses and some overpriced, uncomfortable lingerie would solve _all_ his problems... the nerve of that man! Hermione laughed out loud. Draco Malfoy was sadly mistaken.

Although the roses were a little romantic... Hermione sighed, looking at the box that seemed to be calling her name. She supposed it wouldn't hurt if she just tried on the lingerie, you know, just to see how it might look if she decided to grant Draco's wishes one night. Not tonight, though. Because she was still mad him.

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, admiring her physique. It didn't look half as bad as she expected... Maybe Draco had been right about one thing... Maybe green was her "color" after all. And it wasn't uncomfortable either... Quite the opposite actually. Hermione sighed, a small smile on her face. Her husband may not know much about the Muggle world, but she had to give him credit... Draco Malfoy certainly knew about lingerie. She walked back over to the box and pulled out the remaining rose tissue paper. She gasped at what she saw. In the bottom of cylinder box lay a stunning evening gown. She lifted it out of the box. It was the Emilio Pucci dress she had said she wanted. She squealed in delight and ran into the closet to put it on.

When she emerged, Draco's throat constricted painfully and it became difficult to breathe. She was wearing the slinky, dark bronze, asymmetric Grecian dress he had bought for her. The silky gown had chained straps and crystal embellished detailing which skimmed the floor, and featured a gold satin-sheen layer and bronze wrap fabric that cut into a high slit to reveal her long, graceful legs. She was beautiful. And she was his. He cleared his throat.

"It looked like you were struggling to find the right outfit to wear tonight..." Draco observed, not glancing up and continuing to button his white dress shirt. His wife started, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Did you do this for me?" She asked him, softly.

"I'm sorry, my love... I- I shouldn't have snapped at you... I was just so angry-" Draco clenched his hand into a fist at his side. Hermione walked over and took his hand into hers and laced them together.

"Will you explain it to me, then?" She asked, stroking his jaw with her thumb. Draco closed his eyes, and felt a silver tear fall onto his cheek.

"I cannot." He whispered.

"Draco. Draco, look at me." His wife's beautiful hazelnut eyes were filled with tears as well. "I want to help you," she whispered, wiping away his tear with her thumb. "But you would have to trust me to do that, wouldn't you?"

Draco sighed, turning his head to avert his wife's gaze. Hermione's hand fell to her side. When Draco stepped outside, onto their balcony, Hermione followed. He leaned against the marble rails, looking down at the garden below.

"I haven't always hated Christmas..." He began, sensing his wife's presence behind him.

"That's kind of hard to imagine," Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around her husband and pressing her cheek against his back.

"Is it? I loved Christmas as a child... See, I always got the newest broomstick." He cracked a smile when Hermione snorted.

"You are so spoiled..."

"I was. Especially at Christmastime..." Hermione didn't need to see her husband's face to know that he was no longer smiling.

"Then what went wrong?" She whispered. Draco took a deep breath and looked heavenward.

"I didn't get a new broomstick Sixth Year..."

"What did you get?" She pried, gently. Draco remained silent but looked away from the sky, turning his icy, cold gaze to his hands. He glared at his left wrist in disgust. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh, Draco... I- I had no idea... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to have to carry that burden... It was never yours to bear."

"When are you going to understand that you don't have to do everything on your own anymore? I'm right here beside you... And I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

"This time of year just makes me remember how much I hated myself, how much I still hate myself and all the bad decisions I regret making..."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "No, you're different now. You are a good person..."

"Being a good man for a hundred years will never make up for what I've done in the past!" Draco yelled. "One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness!"

"Though it seems enough to condemn him." Hermione shot back.

"Indeed it is, darling." Draco snarled at her.

"Look at this." Hermione demanded.

"Hermione-"

"No, Draco. Look at what it says on my arm... Read it to me."

"No..." Draco shook his head vehemently.

"It says, 'Mudblood.'"

"Don't you dare call yourself that!"

"Look at it!" She cried. He took her right arm in his hands and gently turned it over. He heard her suck in a breath. He stroked her pale skin with two fingers, tracing the ugly scar.

"It doesn't mean anything," he whispered against her ear. Hermione shivered against his body but didn't respond. She grasped his other arm and pulled it toward her so his Dark Mark was bared. She mirrored his actions, running her fingers in soothing circles against his wrist.

"But don't you see, Draco? Neither does yours." She paused, looking up at him with those wide, brown eyes. "This Mark is a symbol of hatred- of an elitist mindset that is determined by society and prejudiced beyond excuse... It's meant to tear our world apart... It was meant to tear us apart... It's what you once thought you were..." She trailed off, brushing her thumb against the skull of the Dark Mark. She looked up at him, a radiant smile lighting her face. "That's not who you are, Draco. Remember that."

Draco stared at his wife with his piercing grey eyes before leaning down and capturing her lips with his. "I love you," he said breathlessly. "So much... I hope you know that."

"I love you too, Draco," Hermione whispered. "Thank you for telling me why you don't like Christmas..." Draco laughed softly, wrapping his arms around Hermione's smaller frame and pulling her against his chest.

"What? Did you think I was a Scrooge just to piss you off?" He winked at her.

"Well darling," Hermione laughed, "With you I can never tell." Draco smirked.

"I'm just full of surprises aren't I?" There was a strange gleam in her husband's eyes. "Come here. There's something I want to show you..." Draco took Hermione's hand and led her back into the bedroom, in front of the mirror. "Now close your eyes." He instructed.

"Why?" Draco rolled his eyes at his wife's stubbornness. "Just do it." To his surprise, she complied. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his mother's necklace, unclasping the golden chain. Draco swept his wife's long, tamed auburn hair over her bare shoulder, exposing the back of her graceful neck and shoulder blades. His fingers lingered on the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He placed the ruby necklace around her neck, nipping at her ear. Hermione's body went limp in his arms. "Open your eyes, my love," he whispered.

Hermione gasped when she saw the necklace Draco had placed around her neck. "Oh, Draco..."

"That's 14 carrot gold right there," Draco said, watching his wife's reaction in the mirror. "I bought it when I was ten with my very own money." He sounded proud. "It belonged to my mother... She wants you to have it now."

"Draco... This necklace... It's stunning... It must have cost a fortune!"

"If you were to sell it, we could probably buy a 27,000 square foot house in Turks and Cacaos, just putting it in perspective for you, my darling." He flashed her a smile.

"Draco, I can't accept this," Hermione said, turning to face him.

"You don't like it?" Draco asked.

"No!" Hermione reassured him. "I love it! But Draco... I- I can't wear this necklace. I mean it belonged to your mother and we could feed a whole third-world country with this piece of jewelry!"

"Or buy a house on the beach," Draco interjected. "I love the beach... I know you do too."

"Draco, I don't deserve a piece of jewelry that's this expensive and this nice!" Hermione tried to talk some sense into her husband's thick head.

"No you're right," he conceded. "You don't deserve this necklace... You deserve every jewel in the whole world and I'm sorry that I couldn't get you that."

"What? Draco, that's not what I meant-"

"You are worth every jewel in this world to me, Hermione Malfoy. Without you, I'd be nothing. Without you, I probably wouldn't be here today." Hermione was speechless.

"Draco. I really love the necklace-"

"And me. You love me too."

"Yes," Hermione waved him off. "That too. But I can't take this necklace..."

"For the love of God, woman! Just take the damn gift!"

"I said no, Draco!"

"That word is not in my vocabulary."

"Well then maybe, I should start using it more often..." Hermione snapped at him.

"Fine. I'm prepared to offer you a deal, Mrs. Malfoy... If you accept, and wear, this necklace, I will donate 20% of this necklace's value to a third-world country in Africa. How's that?"

"25%" She said.

"15%" Draco smirked.

"30% or I will burn that lingerie you gave me." Now Hermione was the one who was smirking.

"Fine. 30% and you have to wear the necklace and lingerie."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, darling," Hermione replied causally. "I already am." Draco stared at his wife in awe.

"What? Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're beautiful... And your mine." He growled. Hermione blushed.

"I must say though Draco, you have an exquisite taste for women's lingerie, dresses and jewelry it would seem..."

"Only the best for the wife of the Malfoy heir." Hermione laughed.

"And Malfoy's only get the best that money can buy." Hermione stated.

"Now you understand!" Draco replied, ecstatic that his wife was embracing the oldest and noblest Malfoy tradition. Hermione laughed again, throwing her arms around Draco's neck. Draco decided he would do whatever it took to hear that beautiful sound everyday of his life.

"Merry Christmas, Draco." Hermione said, standing on her tip-toes to give her husband a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Beautiful."

...

A/N: So I thought this might be a nice way to close the Holiday Season... As previously mentioned, this FanFiction is going to be a collection of totally unrelated Christmas one (or two) shots, updated during the Christmas Season. I will be adding my other Dramione one-shot, The Christmas Shoes, tommorow night. I hope you enjoyed this two-shot and a good Christmas Holiday! Please R&amp;R!

~Katherine


	3. The Christmas Shoes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the song/title. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling and the song "Christmas Shoes" is owned written by Leonard Ahlstorm and Eddie Carswel.**

**Summary: Draco Malfoy discovers the truth about Christmas and learns a little about ****himself too, with the help of a little boy. One-sided Dramione.**

**Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Hugo Weasley **

**Rating: K+**

**WARNING: This fanfic is based off of the the song Christmas Shoes, a heart wrenching song. Character death.**

_**~ The Christmas Shoes~**_

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. And here he was, still trying to buy that last gift or two. Draco Malfoy was not a last minute person, he never had been and he never would be. He was always punctual and never waited till the last minute. Yet, here he was, in line at Madam Malkin's buying his mother a Christmas gift.

His mother had decorated the Manor for Christmas, much to Lucius's dismay. For weeks Narcissa Malfoy had been singing carols, baking and shopping. His mother loved to entertain and consequently, this holiday season had passed in a blur of parties, dinners and balls. But even with all the decorations, carols and parties, even the white snow on the ground, Draco Malfoy still wasn't in the Christmas spirit.

Standing right in front of him was a little boy, waiting anxiously. Draco checked his watch impatiently. His mother would kill him if he was late for the Christmas feast. He craned his neck around to see what was taking so long. The boy, no older then seven, was tapping his foot against the floor. In his hands he held a pair of Christmas shoes.

He was tall for his age, thin and gangly. His red, curly locks looked as if they hadn't been brushed in weeks. His clothes, worn and old. He was dirty from head to toe and appeared to be shaking from the cold. He seemed like a friendly child as he began speaking with the clerk. Draco pulled out his phone and scrolled through his emails. Might as well get some work done and get ahead.

However, Draco paused when he heard the boy speak.

"Sir," the boy said to the cashier. "I want to buy these shoes, for my Mama, please. It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size. Could you hurry, sir? Daddy says there's not much time... You see she's been sick for quite a while and I know these shoes would make her smile. And I want her to look beautiful if she meets Jesus tonight." Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. This boy's mother was dying...

The little boy began pulling sickle after sickle out of his pocket. He stood there, counting sickles for what seemed like years.

"Son," the clerk said, gently. "There's not enough here." The boy began searching through his pockets, frantically turning each pocket inside out. Then he turned to look at Draco.

Draco stifled a gasp. This was her son... He had her eyes. Her beautiful, doe brown eyes. He remembered how they sparkled when she laughed and how they had looked at him with unconditional love and trust. He had betrayed that trust many a year ago. He had tried to move on. He really had. But he couldn't get her out of his head.

"Mama made Christmas good at our house... Though most years she just did without. So, Tell me Sir, what am I going to do? Somehow I've got to buy her these Christmas shoes," the little boy implored Draco. The boy's eyes were wide, his bottom lip trembling. Draco internally cursed. The boy's mother had pulled this face many times... particularly when she wanted something. And she had gotten it. She had had Draco wrapped around her little pinkie. he would've brought her the moon, had she asked for it.

Draco pulled out ten galleons and put them on the counter. He just had to help this boy, her son. He had to do right by her... if not her, then her son. because Draco loved her... he had never stopped loving her. He had let her go... it was for her own good. She deserved better then him. And as long as he lived, Draco never forgot the look on Hugo Weasley's face when he said, "Mama's gonna look so great!"

Instead of going home, Draco found himself walking along a quaint little street, just on the outskirts of Stratford. He knew immediately which was hers... The lawn was neat and trim, the landscape exquisite. She had always loved the Christmas roses he had bought her. The only light in the house was candles which flickered in the windows. The drapes were drawn shut. To a pedestrian the house would look deserted... But Draco knew better. He walked to the door and left a neatly wrapped present on the stoop, knocked once and Disapperated into the night.

Draco knew he'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love... He knew that God had sent that little boy to remind him just what Christmas was all about...

The day after Christmas a lone figure stood in a graveyard, holding a bouquet of Christmas flowers. Snow had began to fall softly to the ground. The man didn't feel the bite of the wind or the ground beneath his feet. It wasn't possible... She couldn't just be dead... She had died on Christmas Eve of breast cancer. Fate was cruel. She didn't deserve to die... No one really deserved to die... She had a whole life ahead of her... She was supposed to have lots of kids and die peacefully, at an old age... Not like this. He hoped she had gotten his message in time... There was a note, hidden in the book he had gotten her.

"I never stopped loving you."

He didn't sign it... She would know who it was from. He hoped Hugo had said good-bye. He hoped her husband had stayed at her side. He hoped she had tried on the Christmas Shoes.

After that day, the world seemed a little darker... A little colder. His ray of sunshine was gone, lost to the storm. He hoped she was in a better place... A place of joy, a place of hope. A place were suffering and pain was virtually non existent.

He stood there, at her grave, all day, tears pouring down his pale cheeks. He talked to her. Talked to her about life, his feelings and how he was trying to find the strength to move on. He re-lived old memories. The good and the bad. The happy and sad. Their first kiss and their first fight. Their first date and their first break up. Their wedding and their divorce. Their baby who was buried next to his mother...

As the night progressed the sky cleared and the stars, shining brightly appeared. He looked up and saw their star, twinkling so far away. It was in that moment he realized he had been forgiven. She forgave him.

**A/N: I hope you guys had a great Christmas and I hope your new year is going great so far and stays that way! Please review :)**

**~Katherine**


	4. Believe

**Disclaimer: All rights and recognizable character names belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing and am making no profit from writing this. The lyrics included in this one shot belong to Josh Groban and the creators of The Polar Express. Happy reading!**

**Summary: "Do you believe in miracles again?" She whispered, caressing his blonde hair. "Yes," he breathed against her ear. "And when it seems that we have lost our way, we find ourselves again on Christmas day," he sang softly. She joined in."If you just believe."**

**WARNING: This one shot is rated T+ for implied adult situations, blood, language, and violence. I would like to make it clear that in this particular story, Draco will never lay a hand on Hermione. He will never PHYSICALLY hurt her. What you have to understand is that everyone deals with anger and grief in different ways... Draco has temper tantrums and throws things. But he will never throw anything AT Hermione.**

_**~Believe~**_

She had been pregnant for 24 weeks... She had gained a healthy twenty five pounds, she had had the weird food cravings (It had been wheat grass smoothies last week), and the unfortunate bout of morning sickness. Hell, they had even began to paint the little one's nursery. His wife had carried their little Cassiopeia in her womb for six months. Draco supposed that if she had only been six weeks pregnant at the time, perhaps it wouldn't have hurt so much... They wouldn't even have known the sex of their child... He remembered that night so clearly, so vividly, like the way one might recall a reoccurring, horrifying nightmare.

It had been Christmas Eve. And just like every other Christmas Eve, Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy had gone out to dinner (in Paris, France of course) and had returned to London, England to see a show at 8:00. That night, much to Draco's dismay, she had dragged him along to see her favorite ballet and his least favorite show, The Nutcracker. Draco hated ballets. But she was his wife, she was also pregnant, and he loved her. So naturally, she won.

Dressed in a royal blue, form-fitting evening gown, she had this kind of glow about her. The kind of glow that made you look twice, the kind of glow that made husbands stare and wives hold onto their curious and prying partners even tighter. His wife was, quite simply, radiantly beautiful. After the show, the young couple had decided to go for an evening stroll, returning home just after midnight. They had made plans for tomorrow's brunch with Hermione's parents and Christmas dinner with Harry, the Weasley's, and Narcissa.

Once in bed, Draco placed an open-mouthed kiss on his wife's bared shoulder and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist as he placed his hand on her protruding stomach. He pressed two gentle kisses on her stomach, right where he knew his daughter's head to be. His heart leapt when he felt his daughter kick her tiny feet against her mother's womb.

"I love you," he whispered, gazing adoringly up at his wife.

"I know," she replied sweetly, her eyes fluttering shut.

"I love you too," Draco murmured against his wife's stomach. "Your mummy and I can hardly wait to meet you, little star." He stroked her stomach gently. He was silent for a moment. "I'm scared," he admitted softly to his unborn child. "Bugger that," he cursed, "I'm bloody terrified... What if I'm not meant to be a father? My father was-my father was... Not my father," he exhaled heavily. "So why should I be any different?"

His wife's words echoed in his head.

"You are not Lucius," she had insisted, stroking his blonde hair one night after their passionate love making. "You're loving and caring and gentle and brave. And Draco, you're going to be a wonderful father."

"I'm not my father, I'm not my father," Draco whispered. "I'm not Lucius. I will never be like him, and I swear to you, I will never hurt you or your mother, my little Cassiopeia," he murmured, as he stroked Hermione's stomach, soon falling asleep to the sound of his wife and baby's heartbeat.

At around three in the morning, sharp pains in her abdomen had jolted his wife awake from her slumber. She began to scream her husband's name, sobbing as she clutched her stomach. There was a crimson stain on the silver, satin sheets beneath her. Fearing the worst, he had gathered her limp body into his arms and had flooed them to St. Mungos straight away.

There had been so much blood...

At around six in the morning, Christmas morning, the flurry of activity in the hallway had ceased. The hall was now quiet, a stark contrast to the noise that had filled it an hour ago. Draco paced outside the maternity ward, his hair mussed, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, feeling utterly helpless. A matronly looking healer, Eileen, stepped out from his wife's room and into the hall. Draco noted that her eyes were red-rimmed as well.

"Is she okay?" The young man

demanded. "Is my wife okay?"

"Mrs. Malfoy is resting right now, Mr. Malfoy. You may go in to see her now." Eileen refused to meet his piercing grey eyes. Cold fear gripped Draco's heart.

"And my daughter?" He whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy." He leaned his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes to stop the tears from falling, and clenched his fists together, slamming them into the wall.

"No..." He couldn't breathe, couldn't see straight. The world began to blur. Draco stumbled into his wife's room, his head spinning.

One look at her, and Draco knew. Her beautiful cinnamon eyes, so warm and full of life, were dull, filled with pain, and fixated on something far beyond this world, this reality. He called out to her, his voice breaking. She was to far gone to even hear.

They had lost their baby, their beautiful Cassiopeia Helena Malfoy that night. After that night, Draco had stopped believing in miracles... His miracle was lost.

Arguments became more and more frequent, to the point where they were no longer arguments... They were violent fights. She would scream at him, he would scream back. He would leave the house, often not returning until two or three nights later, drunk, the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume lingering around him. She began to spend more time with his best mate, Blaise Zabani. He began to spend more time with his former fiancé, Astoria Greengrass. Tabloids began to spread rumors and neither Draco nor Hermione believed the other's story. During their more heated altercations, tears would fall down her porcelain cheeks, and he would throw things onto the cold, hard ground, break furniture or even slam his fists against the wall. She knew that Draco would never hurt her, but this man terrified her. This man was not her husband... Their marriage was shattering like the turquoise blue vase that Draco had hurled against the wall beside her.

Bringing intimacy back into their crumbling relationship had been her idea. And for a time, it had worked. They were happier, the arguments began to decrease (save for the occasional playful banter) and they began to engage in their sickening public displays of affection once again. Then, THE argument happened. It had been over something so silly, so stupid... House-elves.

It was Christmas, their first Christmas since the miscarriage. Hermione had been sick all week, some type of stomach bug she had insisted. Draco had suggested that rather then meeting with her parents in the morning, his parents in the afternoon, and the Weasley's that evening, they simply stay at their house and celebrate Christmas, just the two of them.

When Hermione awoke (later then normal) she nearly had a heart attack. Staring down at her with two, large, bright blue eyes, was a house elf. Hermione screamed.

"Oh no, Miss," the elf squealed. "Libby is not meaning to scare you, Miss!"

"Who are you and why are you here?" Hermione cried, clutching her pounding heart.

"Libby has bringing Mistress Hermione her breakfast," the elf replied happily. "Master Draco has told Libby so!"

That's when it all went wrong...

Hermione stormed into the kitchen, Libby toddling after her. Draco looked up from the Daily Prophet.

"Merry Christmas-"

"Why," she demanded, slamming her hands on top of the paper, "Is there a house elf in _my_ house, on _Christmas_, _with no clothes on_?" Draco looked from the shaking, wide-eyed house-elf to his fiery eyed lioness.

"Darling," he spoke gently. "This is Libby. She's here to help you around the Manor and take care of you when I'm away on business trips and such.

"Libby is happy to help, Miss," the elf spoke timidly. Hermione ignored her.

"Draco, you know how I feel about house elves-"

"And you know how I feel about house elves. What's the problem?" Hermione stared at her husband.

"The problem?" She sputtered. "The problem is that you made this decision without me, because you knew it was wrong!"

"She'll be taken care of, Hermione! I grew up with house elves. Hell, I was practically raised by house elves!"

"I will not have my baby raised by a house elf!" She shrieked.

"No," he acknowledged. "You won't. You never will because she's dead." Hermione reeled back, as if Draco had struck her. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

"I thought we had agreed to move on, Draco." Her voice shook.

"How. Can. We. Move. On?" He cried out in anguish. "We can _never_ have a baby. Those fucking healers made sure of that," he spat. He was angry, she realized, but he was not angry with her. "You will never be a mother, I will never be a father. We won't be tired because we won't be up all hours of the night. We won't ever have to worry about changing a stinky nappy or cleaning up the kitchen because their won't be baby droppings or baby food to clean up. We'll never get to take our son and daughter to the Muggle park because if we did, our stroller would be empty. I'll never get to play tea party with my little princess, and you'll never be able to help your little prince defeat the fire-breathing dragon. Hermione, we will _never_ get to see our children receive their Hogwarts letter, or say goodbye to them at Platform 9 3/4. Our son will never play Qudditch and our daughter will never be able to break her mother's academic records. I won't even have to threaten my daughter's boyfriend because she'll never have one, because she's gone!" He was crying now too. "And God dammit, Hermione, I want that. All of that!" His voice was chocked with emotion.

Hermione had remained motionless, staring out of the window, watching the snow falling softly. She looked over her shoulder at him, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she said softly.

"What?" He asked, in a strangled whisper. "But, but-how?" Hermione cracked a watery smile.

"Well Draco, when two people love each very much-"

"Hermione, they said it was _impossible_-"

"_Quia non erit inpossibile apud Deum..._ Nothing is impossible with God," she said softly.

"You're... You're sure?" She nodded.

"I went to St. Mungos two weeks ago." He took a cautious step towards his wife.

"I'm- I'm going to be a father again?" His voice broke.

"Yes." She sobbed, a brilliant smile lighting her face.

"We're having a baby..." His voice was filled with joy.

"It's a boy." She smiled sweetly up at him. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and lifted her off her feet, spinning her around. She put her arms around his neck and threw her head back, laughing joyously. Her laugh soon turned into a quiet sob and Draco gently set her back down on her feet, concern welling in his stormy grey eyes.

"Love... What is it? Talk to me, Hermione." He pleaded with her, crushing her against his chest.

She shook her head.

"They're happy tears," she sniffled into his neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head and rubbed her back soothingly.

"We're going to have a son," he whispered in amazement, resting his bowed forehead on hers.

"Do you believe in miracles again?" She whispered, caressing his blonde hair.

"Yes," he breathed against her ear. _"And when it seems that we have lost our way, we find ourselves again on Christmas day,"_ he sang softly. She joined in

_"If you just believe."_

Seven months later, Scorpius Dameon Malfoy, their tiny, beautiful and perfect miracle was born.

**Author's Note:**

**Please leave me a review! This chapter is kind of different from my normal writing style so I am anxious to see what you readers think! Plus, I absolutely love hearing from my amazing readers and your comments truly brighten my day :) I'm hoping to post 2-3 more chapters during this holiday season, so be on the look out for another update!**

**Happy Holidays!**

**~Katherine**


	5. Starlight Starbright

**Disclaimer: Nope, Santa still hasn't brought me the rights to Harry Potter.**

**Summary: Hermione walks in on a two AM father/son moment on Christmas Eve.**

**Author's Note: Unless mentioned, all one-shots are unrelated to one another. This little fluffy one-shot is the companion piece of the last chapter, Believe, proving that there is a happy ending after the Malfoy's tragedy last chapter. Just to clarify, for every different one-shot, the children will not be the same. For example in this chapter and the last, Hugo Weasley does not exist, though he is a key character in the third chapter: The Christmas Shoes. If I ever get around to posting another update before the Christmas season ends, Draco and Hermione's son for the next one-shot will not be named Scorpius :)**

**~Starlight Starbright~**

When Hermione Malfoy awoke, the bed was cold and Draco wasn't beside her. She sat up in the king sized, mahogany bed, listening intently. 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,' she thought, quoting her favorite Christmas story that she had read every Christmas Eve as a child. The manor was silent, a stark contrast to the cries and wails that usually echoed through the pristine and cavernous hallways at two thirty in the morning.

The moon was full and bright and the world outside the French balcony doors was covered in sparkling ice crystals. The dying embers of the fire emitted a soft glow. Hermione moaned in dismay before leaving the warm comfort of the bed and padding over to the gold and green divan, tying the black, satin robe that lay strewn on the divan around her slim form. Putting on her pink, fluffy slippers, she slipped out of the bedroom and into the deserted hall.

She hurried up the grand, marble staircase, turned right and stopped outside of the third door. Her baby's door was cracked, and she heard a soft cry from inside the room, followed by frantic shushes. Curious, the brunette opened the door slightly, and supported her weight against the doorframe. Her husband held their tiny miracle against his chest as he rocked, back and fourth, and back and fourth, in the rocking chair.

"Hush, Scorpius," he cooed softly. "You'll wake everyone up... We need to let Mummy sleep. Mummy's been very tired and it's your fault that Mummy's been cranky with me." Draco tickled his son's side. Scorpius laughed in delight at his father's antics. "You think this is funny do you, my little demon?" Draco demanded, laughing too. "Daddy's had to sleep on the couch _twice_ this week because of you! _Twice..."_ He murmured in disbelief. Hermione stifled a giggle. Scorpius squirmed in his father's strong arms and reached toward the ceiling. Draco followed his son's gaze.

By far Hermione's favorite feature of her baby's nursery was the enchanted ceiling. Thousands of stars shone softly, occasionally twinkling, on the seemingly black abyss of the ceiling. It all looked so real and never failed to take her breath away. Draco began to speak quietly again, pointing to a constellation in the enchanted sky.

"There's Daddy's constellation," he whispered, "the big fiery dragon who will forever protect his beautiful queen and her tiny prince until his dying breath." Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"And there's you, buddy," Draco whispered, placing a featherlight kiss on his son's blonde curls. "Scorpius. Forever chasing after the great hunter, Orion who wanted to kill all the wild animals. Spoiler alert: Orion could never defeat my little Scorpion." Scorpius yawned and curled his tiny body against his father's broad chest, grabbing a fistful of Draco's shirt in his hand.

"Do you see that constellation up there?" Draco asked his son. "That's your sister, Cassiopeia, the wandering queen of the night sky. Mummy and I lost her once, but now she's up there, watching over us." Draco's gaze was fixated on the cluster of bright stars that twinkled above him. After a moment, he cleared his throat and returned his attention back to his son.

"Mummy sings to you to get you to close those big, grey eyes right, little one? Now, I know I'm not as good as Mummy, but I'll try, okay?" Hermione smiled as her body instinctively relaxed at the sound of his soothing, deep baritone.

_"Starlight, starbright  
Wishing on the first star of the night  
I wish I may  
I wish I might  
Make all your dreams  
Come true tonight_

_As your drift  
Off to sleep  
Angels guard the memories you keep  
Now close your eyes  
And dream away  
And you'll awaken on Christmas day_

_Starlight, starbright  
Shining on my little one tonight  
I wish I may  
I wish I might-"  
"Make all your dreams  
Come true for you tonight."_ Hermione joined in softly, smiling fondly at her boys.

Draco looked up in surprise. "Shit, princess. You weren't supposed to wake up." Hermione laughed softly and walked over to her husband's side.

"It's not your fault my love," she whispered, tracing his jawline with her finger. Soft stubble scratched her hand. "I woke up because you were not beside me." He winked at her as he stood to place the baby in his crib.

"So it is my fault, then? You missed me so much that you could not stand to be parted from me for even an hour because you wanted me, in the worst way, mind you, that much?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"No," she huffed, a faint blush tainting her lovely cheeks, "I was just surprised I didn't hear Scorpius, that's all."you

"Ah," he smirked at her. "So you were worried about me then, _*mea leaena..._" Hermione snorted.

"You wish. If I was worried about anyone, I was worried about Scorpius." Draco looked hurt and placed a hand over his heart.

"Ouch. You wound me, my love."

Hermione ignored him, and gazed down at her sleeping baby boy, stroking his forehead affectionately. "No more then you wound me, Draco," she murmured, leaning into his chest. They both gazed down at Scorpius' tiny form.

"He's beautiful..." She whispered.

"Mmm. Just like his daddy," Draco replied, resting his chin on the crook of her neck. She turned her head to look at him.

"Whoa there, hot shot. I can practically see your ego getting bigger from here."

"That's not the only thing you said was getting bigger when-"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" She hissed in a whisper. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Draco sighed in exasperation.

"Just shut up and kiss me." He growled, placing open-mouthed kisses on the valley of her neck as he trailed them up to her full, peony pink lips.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione." He whispered against her lips.

"Happy Christmas, Draco." She replied, pecking his lips softly.

**Happy Christmas dear readers!**

**Extra Note: *Mea leaena is Latin for "my lioness"**


	6. My Grown Up Christmas List

**Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and David Foster, Linda Thompson-Jenner and Natalie Cole own the song "Grown Up Christmas List."**

**Summary: *IMPORTANT* In a Voldermort AU, the courageous wife of a Death Eater writes a letter to Santa Claus, knowing that the letter will be subsequently intercepted by the Dark Lord himself, begging for a twenty hour reprieve from the fighting so that both sides can celebrate Christmas.**

**~My Grown Up Christmas List~**

Dear Santa Claus,

_Do you remember me?_

Once upon a time _I sat upon your knee, and wrote to you with childhood fantasies..._

I know that it's been awhile since I wrote to you last, eight years at the very least.

But I'm desperate, and, despite what my head is telling me, if you really exist, you're my only hope...

Well, _I'm all grown-up now_, despite what I want to think, _and I still need help somehow_.

_I know I'm no longer a child_, as a matter of fact, I'm pregnant with my first child.

_But my heart still can dream..._

_So here's my lifelong wish, my grown-up Christmas list._

_Not for myself, but for a world desperately in need._

_1). No more lives torn apart._

I lost my mum, my dad, and my best friend all in one day.

George lost a brother and little Teddy Lupin lost a father.

My classmates are missing, never to be seen or heard from again.

My husband's family is shattered.

I'm terrified of losing my husband, terrified that he'll slip through my fingers and disappear, like the fine mist on a cold winter's morn.

I do not want my son to grow up in a world without his father...

And he will be a truly amazing father.

_2). I wish that wars would never start._

That this war would just end.

I'm exhausted.

Physically, emotionally, mentally...

I'm so tired of fighting a war that no one can win!

He has the Ministry and all of the magical world under his thumb, He has all of Great Britain under his control...

That should be enough.

But I know that it is not.

He needs more, craves more, more power, more control.

When the world has fallen at his feet, will that finally be enough?

Will all this pain and suffering come to an end?

What will Tom Riddle do when he can go no farther?

His lust for power has destroyed him and will bring nothing but death and ruin to his loyal followers.

_3). That time would heal all hearts._

_*Tempus Omnia Sanat, __Tempus Omnia Sanat, __Tempus Omnia Sanat_

My heart aches for all the pain this madman, this monster, has caused.

Someday, I will look back on the war and I will remember, the good, the bad, the happy, the sad, those who died, and those who lived to fight another day.

But not today.

I put on a mask.

None but my husband's grey eyes can see through it.

I am happy they think.

I dress in the most beautiful gowns you have ever laid eyes on, sparkling jewels adorning my neck.

I dine on the finest food and wine money can buy.

I host the grandest parties of the century, dancing the night away, whilst people like me, muggleborns, are being slaughtered like animals and starve.

The sky lights up with red and green fireworks, bodies litter the street, blood has been spilt and soon rivers run red...

Am I going to hell?

Am I already in hell?

_4). I pray that everyone would have a friend._

Believe it or not, life is nothing without friendship.

I know I am who I am today because I knew Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

The memories that we hold, the jokes that we told, the laughter we shared, and the tears we shed...

I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world.

I can only hope that my son has friends, true friends, like I had.

Because together, we had the time of our lives, and even though the pages have been turned, the stories that we have written will never be forgotten.

We had the time of our lives, but if it has to end, like I know it will, I'm glad to have them by my side in the time of our lives.

I miss them terribly, you know.

_5). And right would always win._

The lines have become blurred.

Black swirls with white, dark fades into light, and vice versa.

The middle has become grey.

I can't even discern what either side is fighting for anymore.

Freedom? Justice? A better world?

Who's right?

Are we both wrong?

_5). No matter what, you must promise me that love will never end..._

For without love, we are nothing.

Love is a beautiful, fragile thing.

The love for Draco, my baby, Harry, Ron, the Weasley's, my parents-

It is the light in a world of interminable night.

It is the purest essence of true, unadulterated love.

The Dark Lord says it is a virulent poison, seeking to infect our minds and destroy us...

I disagree.

It is my husband's love that keeps me sane in this world.

It is the love for my unborn child that pushes me to keep living, to wake up in the morning.

The love of my life told me, "If you trust in nothing else, trust me, trust in my love for you. Trust us."

I fight not for Harry Potter, or for Lord Voldermort.

I fight for the two most precious things in my world...

My husband and my baby.

I fight for love.

And I have come to realize that love exists on both sides, whether they wish to concede that point or not.

The passionate, burning love that I have for my husband is not unlike the love that Ginny holds for Harry.

The motherly love that Molly Weasley affectionately has for all her children parallels the love that Narcissa Malfoy has for her only son, her pride and her joy.

The brotherly love I have for Ron is almost identical to the brotherly love that my husband and Blaise Zabini share.

We just express it in different ways.

_Santa, this is my grown-up Christmas list._

_As children we believed the grandest sight to see was something lovely wrapped beneath our tree..._

Dolls with pink dresses and blonde hair, puppies with wagging tails, trucks and trains, clothes that we will never wear, and other meaningless trinkets that seemed so important at the time.

_Well heaven surely knows that packages and bows can never heal a hurting human soul._

What can truly heal a broken soul?

Time? Love? Friendship?

What am I missing?

Why does this hurt so much?

'Because it is real.'

_What is this illusion called?_

Life? Purgatory? Heaven? Hell?

_The innocence of youth maybe only in our blind belief..._

_Can we ever find the truth?_

Merry Christmas, Santa.

~HM

To the Dark Lord who I know has been reading this all along,

This Christmas, I ask for nothing but a twenty four hour reprieve from the fighting.

I don't want any of the jewels you deem fit to hang around my neck, to sparkle on my finger, or a tiara to adorn my head.

I ask for peace on this Holy Night. One night. Just one.

For Merlin's sake, it's Christmas Eve!

Let them bury their dead, let your Death Eaters return from the front lines and let my husband come home for the birth of his son.

Please, my Lord.

I beg of you...

I would do anything, give anything-

I have nothing to lose.

I've already sold my soul to the devil...

Would you at least consider it?

**Author's Note: _*Tempus Omnia Sanat _is Latin for "time heals everything."**

**Happy New Year!**

**Be on the lookout for one more chapter before January 6th, 2016!**

**If you have an Instagram, follow my sister and I 2owlsatweeting!**


	7. I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Disclaimer: BREAKING NEWS I'm alive! On another note: I claim no rights to any characters mentioned as they belong to Queen Rowling. This chapter is based on the Christmas song I'll Be Home for Christmas, written by lyricist Kim Gannon and composer Walter Kent. **

**Summary: *IMPORTANT* Companion piece to last chapter. Eight months ago, he had promised his wife that of course he would be home for Christmas, of course he would be there for the birth of his son because he wouldn't miss it for the world. It's Christmas Eve, the contractions have started, and there is still no sign of Draco Malfoy. In place of her husband, Hermione has her mother-in-law, father-in-law, best friend, and her husband's best friend by her side. **

_**~I'll Be Home For Christmas~**_

It was Christmas Eve in Wiltshire. Snow was falling softly from the heavens and the grandiose manor at the top of the hill looked like a sparkling ice palace, shrouded in thousands of tiny ice crystals. Candles flickered in the dark windows and the silhouette of an evergreen tree could be seen in many of the various windows of the manor. White lights were strung around the landscape of the manor, on the trees and over the bushes. The night was quiet and a stillness had fallen over the manor's grounds. Within the opulent and shimmering manor, a high-pitched, keening wail shattered the eire silence of the dimly lit halls.

"Hermione... You need to breathe." Daphne Zabini née Greengrass reminded her friend gently.

"I can't." The brunette gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as her head lolled back onto the pillow.

"Yes, sweetie, you can." Daphne encouraged, grabbing her friend's clammy hand. "You have to."

"I can't have this baby right now!" The distraught woman sobbed. Daphne looked over to the brunette's mother-in-law, silently begging the experienced mother for support.

"I don't think you have a choice, Hermione," Narcissa Malfoy replied softly. "This baby is coming now, whether you like it or not."

"But, Draco-"

"Hermione, you know that he would give anything to be by your side-"

"He promised me!"

"The Dark Lord cares little for promises..." Narcissa warned quietly, glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting Voldermort himself to be standing in the doorway.

"Well, the Dark Lord can go-" Whatever Hermione was going to say was interrupted by her cry of pain as another contraction hit.

"Make it stop," Hermione pleaded with the midwife, tears streaking her face. "Please," she whispered.

"Apologies, Mrs. Malfoy, but there's simply nothing to be done... It's too late." A look of anguish marred Hermione's pretty face, and Daphne's heart broke for her friend.

"I'm not having this baby until my husband is beside me!" A wry chuckle from outside the closed door made all four women glance in its direction.

"Well now, you're just being stubborn, Ms. Granger," the silky voice reprimanded.

"It's Mrs. Malfoy now," Hermione snapped at her father-in-law. He ignored her.

"I was not there with Narcissa when Draco was born," Lucius Malfoy called back to his son's wife.

"Well, that's because you're a right-"

"I do not advise you finish that sentance, daughter-in-law. I assure you, both of my parents were happily married when I was born." Hermione could hear the man smirking from outside the room. "Besides, it's tradition that the men stay outside for the birth. Only women are allowed in the delivery room." Lucius' pompous voice wafted into the room.

"Screw tradition." Hermione growled.

"Well we certainly have, haven't we?" The Malfoy patriarch mumbled.

"I heard that!" Hermione yelled indignantly.

"You were meant to!" He threw back.

Hermione hissed as another contraction washed over her body. Her vision swam and black spots danced behind her eyelids.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you need to calm down, your heart rate is spiking again," the midwife soothed the distressed mother-to-be.

"Calm down?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising several octaves. "Calm down?" She was nearing hysteria. "How the hell can I 'calm down' when I'm about to bring a living human being into this world, which is incredibly painful, mind you, while this human being's _sperm donor_ doesn't even bother to _show up_? Of course that's not his fault because he's out on some kind of suicide mission with a raving lunatic doing Merlin knows what because God forbid he would ever tell me! And that's not even the half of it... The worst part of this entire situation is the horrible truth that I don't even know where the man I love is."

"Every time he leaves through those emerald flames, I have no idea if he'll ever come home to me, or if I'll ever see him again. He's a part of me, the best part of me, my soulmate... and he could be hurt at the front lines of this goddamn war, bleeding and broken, crying out for someone, anyone, to help him. Crying out for me to help him! He could be dead, killed by friend or foe, leaving our child fatherless..." Her voice broke. "Leaving me alone. Oh, God," she whispered, her body wracking with sobs.

"Oh, sweetie," Daphne cried, throwing her arms around the trembling brunette. "You will _never_ be alone in this world, and neither will your child. Draco made damn sure of that. No matter what, you will always have Blaise and I. Lucius and Narcissa too. And Hermione, you'll have to put up with us for a long time to come, because we aren't going anywhere anytime soon." Daphne reassured Hermione. "We're always going to be here for you."

"I wouldn't come to me for any kind of support other than financial support, my dear," Lucius remarked snidely.

"Lucius Malfoy!" Narcissa hissed in warning. Hermione laughed weakly, giving her mother-in-law a watery smile.

"Kidding, Cissa," he added hastily. "Hermione," he began awkwardly. "You should know that my door is always open." He cleared his throat loudly. "If you need to talk or anything," he finished gruffly.

"Thank you, Lucius," Hermione called softly. She winced when another contraction reverberated through her body.

" No. No, I can't..." Hermione whimpered. "I can't do this without him... I _need_ him. This isn't how this is supposed to be!"

"Look on the bright side, Hermione," Daphne replied. "You're going to have a baby!" Hermione wasn't listening.

"This is all wrong..."

"Everything will be alright," Narcissa soothed, running her hands through Hermione's curls.

"Draco wants to be here-"

"And he will." Narcissa stated firmly.

"I want him here now," Hermione cried, not even caring if she sounded like a spoiled princess.

"Listen to me, Hermione. Draco is doing this for you, and for your unborn child. He is fighting to make this world a brighter place, a better place for your son to grow up in. He doesn't want his child to grow up in a world like his. His world was dark and cold and unforgiving. Draco is fighting for a world that would make you smile again because he would give anything to see you smile again... He is doing all of this for you because he loves you so, so, so much. Draco is defying the Dark Lord's orders and double crossing him to protect you and the baby from any harm. He would sooner die then see anyone lay a single finger on you or your child. Because maybe one day, you can live happily ever after, with or without him." Daphne told her friend.

"You know that if _he_ ever found out of Draco's betrayal he would not hesitate to kill all of you. You are Draco's one weakness. He loves you so much that he would die for you, he would take an unforgivable for you, and he would kill for you. The Dark Lord knows this."

"I just want my husband." Hermione's voice broke. "He promised me, promised me-" She wailed in agony and threw a pillow across the room, sobbing onto Daphne's shoulder as the pillow knocked over a photo of her and Draco on their wedding day. The glass shattered.

The mahogany doors burst open and hit the walls with a resounding crash.

"And when have I ever broken a promise to you, *_mea leaena_?" A blonde, handsome man stood in the doorway, panting slightly.

"Draco!" The brunette cried, trying to get up from the bed. She rose unsteadily to her feet and the man rushed over to his wife's side, crushing her against his chest as he embraced her, kissing her lips feverishly. It was like they were the only two people in the room, like for a single moment, the world had stopped spinning and time stood still. The earth could have been obliterated and they wouldn't have cared because they had found each other and they would never let go.

"I told you I'd be home for Christmas." He whispered, nuzzling her neck.

"I didn't believe you," she murmured. "I thought-"

"Hush, my love. I am here now and that's all that matters. We're about to have a baby..." He laid a hand adoringly in her stomach. She flinched as another wave of pain hit. She cried out and clutched his arms in a vice grip.

"It hurts!" She whimpered.

"I know, love, I know," he murmured as he gently picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

"I can't do this," she gasped, squeezing his hand as he settled onto the chair beside the bed.

"Yes you can, *_mea leaena_," he encouraged her softly. "You are the strongest, bravest person I know and you can do this. Just think of how happy you'll be when you finally hold him for the first time..."

"Or her," Hermione gritted out.

"No. I refuse to accept the possibility that our first born child will be anything but a male. Malfoy heirs are always males and-"

"Malfoy's heirs have never bred with Granger heiresses," Hermione quipped. "And Granger's are always female heiresses." Daphne laughed at Draco's expression.

"A hundred Galleons says its a girl," Blaise Zabani murmured to Lucius, who raised his eye brows at the Italian wizard.

"You're on," Lucius smirked.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered.

"What is it? Name it, my love, and it's done."

"Will you hold me?" Her voice was unnaturally small. Draco looked to his mother, who nodded her encouragement, before he discarded his blood stained Death Eater robe and settled against the headboard, drawing his wife against his chest.

"Merlin, Mione," he murmured in her ear, as he stroked her cheek "You're burning up..." Hermione moaned as her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxing under Draco's gentle ministrations.

"Daphne," Draco called. "Get her a wet cloth so we can bring down her temperature." The blonde woman nodded as she pressed the cool cloth to her friend's forehead.

"Mrs. Malfoy, are you ready? I'm going to have to ask you to start pushing." Hermione nodded weakly and cried out as she squeezed Draco's arms which were wrapped firmly around her midsection.

"Again," the midwife encouraged. Draco wished more then anything he could do something to take away her pain. Her screams tore his heart in two and physically pained him.

"I hate you so much!" She sobbed as she leaned her head against his chest.

"Sh, baby, I love you too. So, so, so much..."

"You did this to me!"

"You were an enthusiastic participant if I remember correctly..." Draco smirked as his father and Blaise chuckled. Hermione dug her nails into the pale skin of his toned forearm. She drew blood.

"So help me, Draco Lucius Malfoy! I swear to every greater being that is listening right now that I will hex your balls off so that you will never be able to provide the Malfoy family with another child ever again!" Draco looked horrified.

"You can't be serious?" He asked, aghast. His mother laughed. "Darling, you said you wanted at least-"

"Well damn it, Draco, I changed my mind!"

"Mrs. Malfoy, the baby's crowning, one more push!"

"I can't!" Hermione gasped, her body trembling.

"Just one more," Narcissa encouraged.

"My body... I'm so tired..." Hermione slurred.

"Stay with me, *_mea leaena_," Draco whispered. "You can do this..."

"I can see the head!" Blaise shouted gleefully, as he stood behind the midwife.

"Blaise Zabani," Draco growled. "If you ever want children of your own, do not look in between my wife's legs ever again."

"Draco." Hermione whimpered.

"Come on, love. You can do this..."

"One more, Mrs. Malfoy!"

The cry of a baby echoed with Hermione's scream. Draco's eyes snapped up to the healer, who was holding the tiny human being.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. It's a healthy baby boy," the midwife announced. Draco looked down adoringly at his wife, a brilliant smile lighting his face.

"I have a son," he whispered, gazing at her in awe. "You gave me a son," he cried, as he captured her lips and kissed her feverishly. The midwife wrapped the new born babe in a blue blanket and handed the baby to Hermione.

When Hermione first laid eyes on her son, her eyes filled with tears as she smiled down at the crying baby cradled in her arms. He was absolutely perfect.

"Hi," she cooed softly, gazing into her son's grey eyes. "Draco, he's beautiful," she breathed. "He looks like you." Draco could only nod as he stared, his eyes transfixed upon the tiny form that was nestled in his wife's arms.

Draco had thought he could never love someone more than his wife... But in that moment he knew he was wrong. He would use Hermione's body as a human shield in an instant if it meant protecting his newborn son from harm.

"Do you want to hold him?" Draco met his wife's gaze, his eyes wide and apprehensive. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, terrified at the prospect of holding his newborn son. What if the baby started crying the moment he held him in his arms? What if his newborn son hated him? What if he dropped him? What if he tarnished this beautiful, new, and innocent life with his blood-stained hands? And the biggest fear of all: What if he was a terrible father?

It was almost like his wife read his mind.

"Take him, Draco." Her voice was soft. "Babies begin to form attachments with their mother and father from the moment they are born." Her husband didn't look so convinced. "You will be a wonderful father, Draco, and this baby will love you unconditionally. Here." She readjusted the tiny creature in her arms and offered him to Draco, who took his son into his arms albeit quite reluctantly. A few moments passed as both father and newborn son regarded each other hesitantly. The babe looked up at Draco with his big, blue eyes before yawning hugely and snuggling against his father's broad chest, his tiny hand clutching his blue sweater.

"There you go," Hermione murmured, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. "Hold him against your chest and support his head with your hand." She smiled. "See? You're a natural at this." Draco gazed at his son adoringly.

"What shall I put down as the name on the birth certificate?" The healer asked, parchment and quill in hand. Draco drew his eyes away from the baby in his arms and looked back to his wife, who nodded at him reassuringly.

"Jace," Draco answered softly. "Jace Lyandon Malfoy."

"Jace Lyandon Malfoy," The healer repeated scribbling on the parchment. "Born on 24 December 2000 at 11:58 pm to Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy, weighing five pounds, five ounces and measuring 18 inches in length."

"He's so tiny," Draco murmured in awe. "He barley reaches the curve of my arm..."

"Oh, don't worry," Narcissa assured her son, "He'll grow. He'll grow and grow and grow some more until he has children of his own one day... It passes in the blink of an eye, son," Narcissa cautioned her son.

"Don't miss it," Lucius added, his grey eyes sad. "Don't miss it like I did."

But Draco wasn't listening. His world revolved around his wife and the baby in his arms. He pressed his forehead against Hermione's tenderly.

"This baby," he murmured, "I like it," his voice trailed off. "Another?"

"NO!" Lucius, Narcissa, Daphne, and Blaise screamed. Hermione winked coyly at her husband.

"We'll see," she answered with a dazzling smile.

"Thank you," Draco whispered adoringly, pressing a gentle kiss on his wife's lips. "For giving me the best Christmas gift I could ever have received."

*****_mea leaena translates to 'my lioness' in Latin. I think it's a really endearing endearment for Draco to call Hermione. _**

**Author's Note: Yay! Another chapter finally done! :) I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I have enjoyed writing it because personally? I think this one-shot is my favorite so far! So please let me know what you thought! If you liked this story: give it a like, if you loved this story: give it a like and drop me a review, if you thought this story could use some improvements: also drop me a review and let me know how I could improve! **

**On another note: I hope to have two, maybe three more one-shots posted before January 6th. Expect two more. If you guys are lucky and I'm motivated, then perhaps I'll be able to post three more chapters before the end of this holiday season :) they will be entitled : It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas, Baby It's Cold Outside, and The Twelve Days of Christmas. So stay tuned!**

**On one more note: Follow me on Instagram at 2OwlsATweeting for updates, sneak peeks, and just generally adorable pictures of Draco and Hermione :)**

**Happy Holidays!**


	8. It's Beginning to Look Like Christmas

**Disclaimer: To maintain some sliver of normality in this crazy world, I'm happy to assure all my readers that one thing remains constant: J.K. Rowling still owns Harry Potter and all its amazing characters. The Christmas carol "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" was written in 1951 by Meredith Wilson. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Summary: An overly dramatic Draco "bemoans" the horrors of Christmas decorations while shopping with his wife in Muggle London. It's only November 2nd. **

**To my guest reviewer ady71: I promise this chapter is happier than Chapter Three and Four and that no one dies! For the stories I plan on posting this holiday season (2016-2017), no one else is scheduled to die :)**

**~It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas~**

"This is ridiculous," Draco snapped. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Absurd." She sighed heavily.

"Crackpot and idiotic." She closed her eyes and began to count to ten.

"Foolhardy and stupid." She massaged her temples with her fingers.

"Outrageous!" She began to pray to any greater being that would listen. He was quiet for a moment.

"Are you done yet?"

"An abomination!" He shrieked, looking heavenward.

"Melodramatic much?" She asked sardonically, as she looped her arm gracefully through his. Draco huffed, straightening out his Loro Piana Martingala coat with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Yes," he replied curtly. "Very much so."

"Noted," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly, biting her lip to conceal her smile.

"That's what I thought," he replied quite pompously. She jabbed him pointedly in the ribs with her elbow, causing him to wince in pain.

As they ambled along Oxford Street, Draco seemed to become more and more agitated. Lights had been strung around the trees and the rooftops of all the high end shops and twinkled merrily as they walked past. Wreaths with maroon bows adorned every flickering lamppost in sight. And if you looked just far enough down the street, you could see the sparkling gold star perched atop the grand tree in the center of the square. She saw him open his mouth, gaping like a fish. She knew what was coming.

"It is November 2nd," he cried in outrage.

"I don't think they care much."

"Well they ought to," he decided. "It hasn't even snowed yet!" A snowflake landed on his nose. He brushed it away impatiently.

"It's snowing now," she pointed out patiently.

"Well, damn it, Hermione, I can't control the weather!" She smiled at his irateness.

"Relax, darling... You'll give yourself a conniption."

"I'm having a conniption!" He was nearing hysterics now.

"You're not having a conniption-"

"But, Hermione! It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!" He cried out in horror.

"Yes, well Christmas is a month away." But he wasn't listening to her.

"Ev'rywhere you go!" His arms were flailing wildly about as he danced around on his tip-toes.

"Draco," she hissed. "People are staring!" He didn't seem to care as he took her by the hand and forcibly led her to the glass display window of a department store.

"Take a look in Selfridges, glistening once again with candy canes and silver lanes aglow," he spat in disgust.

"I happen to like candy canes-" Her psychotic husband interrupted her.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!" He bemoaned in a loud voice. "Toys in every store!"

"Well thank goodness for that," Hermione replied seriously, turning her attention to her purse. She rummaged through its contents for a moment before seemingly finding what she was looking for. It was an unremarkable folded piece of paper.

"What tis-ith this folly?" Draco cried out in horror.

"Relax, Shakespeare. We need toys for Victorie Weasley, Teddy Lupin, Adelina and Blair Zabini, Guinevere Parkinson, my five year old cousin Benjamin, my seven year old cousin George, George's one year old sister Charlotte, my mom's friend's grandson William-" Draco interrupted her, shaking his head.

"No. No, we are not getting toys for the little children," he stated firmly.

"We are."

"We are not."

"We are."

"For the love of everything that is good and holy-" She halted his tirade by placing a finger against his lips.

"We are." She smiled impishly as she skipped ahead of him. "But, the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door." She called back to him in a sing-songy voice.

"Oh, there will be _no_ holly on _our_ front door!" He vowed. She shook her head, a small smile gracing her face, as she kept her eyes trained downward on the paper in her hands.

"Let me guess," He had a decidedly sarcastic tone in his voice now. "A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots is the wish of Barney and Ben?" He saw Hermione scrunch her eyebrows together in concentration (not confusion, Hermione Malfoy née Granger was never confused) as her eyes scanned her Christmas list. "I don't see a Barney on the list..." she mumbled. "But my little cousin Ben would love that!" Draco wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

"Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk is the hope of Janice and Jen," he cried out despairingly. Hermione consulted her list again. "No Janice or Jen," she announced. "Honestly, Draco. Where on Earth do you come up with these names?"

He lengthened his stride so that he was a few paces ahead of her before turning back to face her, now walking backwards.

"And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again!" Hermione looked at him in concern, as she reached up to feel his cool cheek with the back of her hand, checking for a temperature.

"No fever," she murmured to herself. "Draco, we've been out of school for three years..."

"So? My parents still wish I was at school."

"Yes," Hermione agreed hesitantly. "Well your parents are... They tend to be um," she paused, searching for the right word.

"Selfish?" Draco suggested. "Absent?" Hermione shook her head. "Neglectful?

"I was going to go with unconventional." He shrugged.

"Yeah, that too." But she wasn't listening to him. She had grabbed ahold of a black metal lamppost and begin to twirl around it. She had a radiant smile on her face.

"Oh isn't it wonderful, Draco? With all the beautiful lights and decorations, the carols and the snow?" She leaned back, keeping one hand wrapped around the pole of the lamppost as her other hand trailed gracefully at her side. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas ev'rywhere you go!" She sighed happily. She let go of the lamppost and ran back to where he had been standing as he observed her. She didn't see the fond smile that had graced his handsome features. She locked her fingers around his wrist and dragged him down the bustling Main Street, finally stopping and panting for breath in front of the grand revolving doors of the upscale and lavish Sanderson London Hotel.

"Look, Draco," she squealed in excitement. "There's a tree in the Sanderson London!" Draco looked into the lobby, unimpressed.

"It's going to die soon."

She looked at him condescendingly. "Don't be morbid." Her eyes light up again when she spotted another tree in the park. "Oh, look! There's one in the park as well!" Draco rolled his eyes.

"It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow," he grumbled. "Wouldn't want it to tip over and crush some poor old Muggle woman who's walking her Niffler." Hermione looked at him oddly.

"It's a dog, Draco. A dog. The Muggle woman would be walking her dog..."

"Nope. The old woman was walking her Niffler," he insisted. Hermione shook her head fondly at his stubbornness. She interlaced her fingers with his as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," she whispered happily.

"Soon the bloody church bells will start," Draco complained.

"And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing right within your heart!" Hermione playfully poked her husband of one year in the chest.

"No carols here!" Draco assured her loudly, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. Hermione leaned in, resting her rosy cheek against his warm chest. She could hear his heartbeat. She smiled mischievously. Draco looked at her suspiciously.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied innocently. "It's just that I can hear your heartbeat."

"And?"

"And it seems... Well, it seems to be singing Christmas carols." Her voice was filled with mock wonder.

"What?" His voice squeaked. She listened to his heartbeat for another moment.

"Ah, yes! It seems that your heart is singing 'Holly, Jolly Christmas' right now!"

"That's impossible!"

"Oh, now it's 'Frosty The Snowman!'

"This can't be happening!"

"Oh, it's happening," she assured him.

"What's it singing now?"

"Jingle Bells," she replied happily. He looked at her.

"Jingle all the damn way."

"That's the spirit!" She squealed happily, pecking him on the cheek as she grabbed his hand and dragged him into Selfridges to begin Christmas shopping on November 2nd. "I knew you'd come through! The Christmas Spirit is infectious!"

Seeing the utter joy on her beautiful face, Draco didn't have the heart to correct her. It wasn't the Christmas Spirit that was infectious, he decided. It was Hermione Granger that was infectious.

**Author's Note: I sincerely hope that this FanFic has been infectious in spreading Christmas cheer! Happy Holidays!**


	9. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Disclaimer: Hey, guys! Just wanted to let ya'll know that I don't own Draco or Hermione or the lyrics to _Baby It's Cold Outside_. Draco and Hermione belong to the ever so brilliant J.K. Rowling. The lyrics to _Baby It's Cold Outside _is copyrighted by lyricist Frank Loesser. With all practicality and legality aside, I present to you _Baby It's Cold Outside, _the last installment of this story until Christmas 2017!**

**Summary: Hermione needs to go home. Like she _really_ needs to go home. Nothing good can happen at her boyfriend's bachelor pad after eight o'clock. Draco needs her to stay. Like he really _needs_ her to stay. Everything good happens at his flat after eight o'clock. Now, he just has to convince her to stay. Which is easier said then done... **

**Rated T+ for some sensuality**

**~Baby It's Cold Outside~**

They lay together, sprawled across the expanse of his sleek and luxurious umber colored sofa, their legs becoming intwined under the fleece throw. Her head rested against his broad chest as his hands came to settle on the sides of her hips. He drew lazy patterns on the soft material of her sweater with the tip of his finger. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and two empty wine glasses sat atop the dark mahogany wood of the table in front of the couch. The glowing embers of the fireplace and the golden lights that sparkled on the tree in the corner were the only source of light in the room. With a reserved sigh, Hermione eased herself out of her lover's caressing embrace and languidly approached the large windows that spanned along the front of the room. She needed to return to the Burrow.

He turned his body to face her, a frown marring his pale features as his grey eyes followed every movement of hers as the space between them seemed to grow with every step she took away from him, much to his displeasure. She had a faraway look in her cinnamon eyes, he noticed, as she gazed outside the window, brooding at the unknown world that lay far beyond their perfect illusion. The sun had sank into the horizon hours ago, giving way to the darkness and the stillness of the night. Snow had begun to fall like dazzling ice crystals again and seemed to shimmer in the soft glow of the street lamps in the distance. She was so entranced by his picturesque street and the falling snow that she didn't hear him approach from behind. She started when she felt his hands snake around her waist, though she instinctively leaned back into his touch.

"Stay, Hermione," he commanded softly, his breath hot against her lovely neck, as his lips caressed the delicate shell of her ear and his nose nuzzled against her soft, glossy curls. Draco heard her catch her breath.

"I really can't stay," she whispered as she reached up to stroke the underside of his jaw with her thumb. He caught her hand and pressed a delicate kiss on the side of her thumb.

"But, Baby," he murmured moving his lips to her index finger and sucking gently. "It's," she shuddered as his tongue flicked over the tip of her middle finger. "Cold," he said the word against her finger as if it were a prayer as his lips ghosted over the finger that would one day make her his forever. "Outside," he whispered, placing a final kiss on her pinkie finger. Hermione gently pulled her hand out of his grasp.

"I've got to go away," she protested, making a move to side step him. He of course blocked her movement with his own body.

"Baby, it's cold outside." Well damn it, he was right. And he was so warm... She shook her head, clearing that treacherous thought from her mind.

"This evening has been-" She started. Draco interrupted her.

"I'd been hoping that you'd drop in," he admitted softly, beginning to sway back and forth with her in his arms.

"So very nice," she continued as if he had not interrupted her. He spun her around in his arms so that she was now facing him.

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." He murmured as he intwined their fingers together and brushed his lips across the knuckles of her hands. Hermione's eyes flickered to the door.

"Mrs. Weasley will start to worry-"

"Beautiful, what's your hurry?" He asked softly, turning her face gently towards him so that her gaze now rested upon him and not the door. He needed her attention to be focused solely on him. Craved it. Craved her.

"Harry will be pacing the floor-" Well he gave exactly zero shits about The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die.

"But listen to the fireplace roar..." He whispered against the shell of her ear. God, he was so tantalizing. Like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. Ironically, Eve had been tempted by a snake... Figures. It would seem that snakes have an irresistible charm.

"So really I'd better scurry-" she insisted, slipping away from his embrace and making for the door. Draco caught her wrist in his hand.

"Beautiful, please don't hurry..." He could see her resolve beginning to crack. She was quite for a moment and he could literally see the gears turning in her head as she fought a battle within.

"Well maybe just a half a drink more," she conceded warily as she hesitantly sat back down on his couch.

"Put some Christmas carols on while I pour," Draco instructed as he grabbed a bottle of Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades Rose from behind his bar.

Even as she lounged on his couch, sipping his fine wine, she tried to convince him (and herself) that nothing good would come of the situation if she stayed.

"The neighbors might think-" She began, biting her bottom lip. She did that whenever she was nervous, unsure, or guilty. He suspected that she might be all three. Clearly she would need some persuasion.

"Baby, it's bad out there." Logic first. She moved to sit on his lap and curled against his chest, feeling warm and slightly buzzed.

"Say, what's in this drink?" She murmured contentedly as she was lulled by the steady beat of his heart.

"No cabs to be had out there..." He whispered, as he stroked her hair. More logic. She sighed longingly.

"I wish I knew how-" Draco didn't really care about what she wished she knew at the moment.

"Your eyes are like starlight now," his voice was soft, melodic. Step two: Flattery.

"To break this spell-" Draco was kind of hurt by her words. He would never use any means of magic, coercion, or force to make her stay and love him.

"I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell..." He offered. She eyed him wearily. More flattery.

"I ought to say no, no, no-" she persisted.

"Mind if I move in closer?" His nose delved into the curve of her neck as he inhaled her vanilla and cinnamon scent. She sucked in her breath when she felt his tongue flick over her collarbone as he trailed his teeth across the sensitive skin. Damn. She was losing this battle. Damn him.

"At least I'm gonna say that I tried-" She moaned as she threw back her head, giving him unrestrained access to her neck. He smirked against her exposed skin and could practically taste her sweet surrender.

"What's the sense in hurting my pride?" His voice was husky, low, and unbelievably sexy.

"I really can't stay," she whimpered, weakly fighting against the desire that coiled in her stomach and core. "Baby don't hold out..." Draco whispered, as his hands slipped under her sweater and came in contact with her bear skin. A shiver of pleasure ran through her body at his touch.

"Ah, but it's cold outside." She admitted softly. She was so close to giving in, so close.

"I've got to get home." She whispered firmly, though she made no move to stop him when he began to pull her sweater off her shoulders.

"Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there." More logic. He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her exposed shoulder.

"Say, lend me your coat," she suggested weakly as he finally succeeded in freeing her delicious body from the constraints of her sweater. He groaned in desire as his eyes became fixated on her chest. Dear God, she was trying to kill him. What little self control he had vanished. The minx was sitting on his lap, wearing a red lace bra. He pounced.

"It's up to your knees out there." His breathing had become shallow. His hands moved down to the swell of her hips as he played with the waistband of her leggings.

"You've really been grand-" Whatever else she was going to say became a gasp as he let out a feral growl, grabbed his wand, and vanished her leggings. Damn. Her panties matched the red lace bra.

"Thrill when you touch my hand..." Desire clouded his voice as she pulled his shirt off his body and trailed her fingers down his bare chest.

"Why don't you see?" She murmured, as her hand trailed lower, lower, lower to rest on his lower abdomen.

"How can you do this thing to me?" Draco gasped, his head thrown back against the top of the couch in ecstasy.

"There's bound to be talk tomorrow," she whispered innocently in his ear as she slowly unzipped his pants. He was so beyond caring what other people talked about.

"Think of my life long sorrow-" his voice cracked when she pressed an open-mouthed kiss on his lower abdomen and her hands began to travel down to his exposed thigh.

"At least there will be plenty implied..." She shifted innocently on his lap, though the devious smirk that played on her lovely lips let him know that she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He gritted his teeth together.

"If you caught pneumonia and died." The sentence became a guttural groan that barely left his throat.

"I really can't stay..." She whispered tantalizingly against his lips. Her lips were so damn close but refused to touch his.

"Get over that hold out," he growled as he surged upwards to meet her parted lips. Their tongues fought for dominance.

"Ah, but it's cold outside," Hermione gasped, smiling wickedly as she bit down on his bottom lip.

"Oh, baby, it's cold outside..." He moaned as he flipped her in his arms and laid her on the length of the couch, his body pressed firmly on top of hers.

"Oh, baby, it's cold outside," they both whispered in agreement.

Outside the dark windows, the snow was still softly falling silently. Draco and Hermione didn't give one damn. Harry and Ron nearly passed out when she arrived at the Burrow at noon the next day with a love bite clearly visible on the column of her neck. And for once, Hermione didn't give a damn.

**Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed the last annual installment of Merry Christmas, Beautiful! Please review, follow, or favorite if you enjoyed, as I always love to hear from my readers! And this is where, my dear readers, I bid adieu to you, and you, and you. Until next year!**

**~Katherine**


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